


Firebird

by Illyrian_Nights



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, Жар-птица и Василиса-царевна | The Firebird and Princess Vasilisa
Genre: Adventure, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 11:02:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13270077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illyrian_Nights/pseuds/Illyrian_Nights
Summary: The story of how Vassa became cursed.





	Firebird

         It has been said that the measure of a man’s character can be determined by the joke he resents most. Fortunately for Vassa’s character she wasn’t a man nor was the joke any part clever or appropriate. Come to think of it, none of Judge Ciril’s jokes ever met either criteria. Of course a few court members had laughed at his innuendo, not because it was truly amusing but because his huge ass needed kissing. The pudgy relic had won his seat with demagoguery rather than qualification and Vassa was reminded of it every time he opened his tiny, thin-lipped mouth. The queen wondered how his wife kissed him without a magnifying glass, If she kissed him at all. Forcing the image from her mind, Queen Vassa focused on returning her gaze to the messenger waiting for her attention. His report was urgent enough that he barely noticed Ciril, his face taut with importunity. 

         “I apologize, courier, for my court’s impropriety. In answer to your question-yes. I have, in fact, heard of Amarantha’s fate. What I am unsure of, however, is its relevance to the human realm. Have you come all this way to... what-” Her eyebrows shot up “-gossip?” Vassa’s patience was wearing thin and her steely words did little to hide it. This man had little to say that her own network had not already discovered. This annoyance, coupled with Ciril’s insinuation about what -or who- the bitch had choked on and died, raged at the royal facade she was trying to present. The other five queens rarely sought her counsel or company so she had to at least entertain their courier before showing him the door. 

         “There is to be a convening of the queens to… discuss the effects of Amarantha’s demise. Certain matters must be discussed, Your Majesty, and they are eager to introduce you to a person of interest.” 

         “Must they be so coy about everything? Just tell me the person’s damn name and I’ll come.” Vassa raised an eyebrow, barely repressing the hot exasperation that pushed at her chest.

         “That is one of the effects to be discussed.” He took a step forward, “In private.”

_          Ah. They want to play their little games.  _ Vassa frowned. She had hoped to stay out of their politics and maneuvering, however, members of the court had been pushing for a stronger and more united alliance with the other kingdoms. Not without reason, seeing as various anarchists were growing restless again. 

         “It seems this person is important enough to garner the interest of the five queens but not important enough to have a name.” The courier made to speak again but Vassa lifted a hand to silence him. “Give them my confirmation. I will be going to this seemingly  _ essential  _ meeting and speak with this stranger. Discuss the details with my steward, Bogdan, I have no interest in them.” Rising to leave, Vassa heard the courier begin to interrupt her departure. 

         Behind the queen, Deidra hissed, “You have been  _ dismissed _ . I do not know the procedure of your court but here my sister’s words are final.” The snarl on her face seemed to convince the poor man to retreat a few steps. Bogdan, composed yet jaded Bogdan, stepped forward and guided the man towards the private chambers adjacent to the Great Hall. Deidra caught up to Vassa, looking thoroughly annoyed. The guards pushed open the great doors of the hall and the queen’s entourage strode into the sweltering summer heat. 

         Upon hearing the shutting of the massive door, Deidra huffed, “By the Macha, did he not know who you  _ are _ ? Fifty gold pieces he’s one of Maven’s lackeys.” They turned into one of the covered walkways, seeking relief from the savage sun. “The old crone thinks everyone is beneath her and has never truly respected anyone under the age of seventy.” Vassa snorted at her sister’s vehemence but her words rung true. Queen Maven was a bitter old woman who ruled her people with disdain and selfishness. Hira, the youngest of the queens, practically idolized her and sought to emulate her cold, shrew temper.  _ To hell with the lot of them,  _ Vassa clenched her jaw,  _ they are never satisfied and always posturing for more power.  _

         “A hundred gold pieces he’s Cerroden’s sniveling rat. Too polite to belong to Maven. No, he thinks he can smile prettily and charm his way into our ears. Far more Cerroden’s type.” Turning to Deidra, Vassa studied her young sister. Nigh on twenty-two, Deidra had never outgrown her wild and unpredictable temper. There seemed to be something that grew beneath those dark green eyes; a ceaseless sea of fury edged in violence. Whatever it was and wherever it came from, Vassa was glad for it. It made presumptuous courtiers and ambitious judges think twice before opening their loathsome little mouths and begin their ceaseless chatter.

         “How long do you think you’ll be gone?” There was a rare edge to her sister’s voice. 

         “Is that fear in your words?”

         Deidra made a disgusted noise before walking on, “I think we both know that those crones are plotting something in connection to Amarantha’s death. The older ones have always sought the ungodly power possessed by the Fae, perhaps they think there is a way for mortals to wield it. _ Foolish hags _ .” She nearly spat the last words.

         The problem was that Deidra was most likely right. In the past century, the queens had only convened once-to meet concerning the curse in Prythian and discuss their half of the Book. That had been near fifty years ago. To meet again, so soon after Amarantha’s death? It did not bode well.

         “If there is something, I’d like to see it myself.” Vassa would not be cowed by the other queens. While it had been sometime since an official meeting, matters of the border forced neighboring kingdoms to visit with one another. With Maven to the North, Aine and Carroden to the East, and Demetra to the South, Vassa had many occasions to better acquaint herself with the others. She had even met Hira, though her own land lay too far North to care for, through Maven. She had not liked a single one of them. The only fond memories she had of any of them was the seething hostility on their faces whenever Deidra deigned to open her mouth. 

         The sisters continued down the breezy corridor until they reached the study. Vassa dismissed her guard and sat down heavily into her favorite overstuffed armchair. Her sister hovered near the door.

         “I don’t like this, Vassa.” Deidra crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe. “At least, send out our spies for word on this meeting before agreeing to it. You were too hasty in your confirmation.” So the edge to her voice before hadn’t been fear but frustration. With  _ Vassa. _ Her blood heated at her sister’s words.

         “ _ Oh _ ?” Venom laced Vassa’s voice. She bit back the rage starting to escape and narrowed her brows. “Regardless of what you think, I have given my word and plan to go. The others will not try anything at the palace, Logoria is neutral ground. To kill me there, they’d have to be mad. The wards in the castle ensure my life cannot end inside. Besides, the instance life leaves this body all powers regarding the book would instantly transfer to you-an occasion none of those scheming witches would like to see. And Logoria’s palace is impervious to spies-even the best- it would be fruitless to send our own.” 

         “So you do nothing and willingly walk into this?” The heat in those words could have melted iron.

         “When you are queen, you will understand that not everything is as easy as you’d like it to be!” Voice rising with emotion, the queen sat on the edge of her seat. Deidra scoffed.

         “It looks like my coronation will be sooner rather than later the way you’re acting.”

         “I already told you, they-” Vassa almost threw her hands up in frustration before pinching the bridge of her nose. “We are too old to be fighting like this.” A pause. “I do not answer to you, sister. I answer to this people and if I refuse the queens, we will fray the bonds that currently hold this country together. We cannot stand alone, not now.” 

         “The cultists have been subdued, Vassa! Scythia is fine on our own, we have no need for those meddling queens. Send word that you have other things to attend to and be done with it.” 

         It was infuriating to be talked down to by a child. Rising from her chair, the elder stalked towards Deidra. 

         “You think I talk only of the cults? Ciril and his cronies now have a seat in our courts. Not to mention the Mendeleevs have been angling for our throats for years now. Was it not Lethe who-”

         “Leave her out of this. This has nothing to do our relationship.”

         Vassa knew she had hit a sore spot, the beast within curling in delight at Deidra’s reddening face.

         “Then why is it that everytime I do anything remotely risky, you have something to say about it?”

         Deidra choked out, “I. Am. Your. Sister. I  _ always  _ have your back,  _ especially _ when you are acting stupid. Do you honestly think I can lose one more person close to me? Do you think I am so selfish that my only thoughts are about if I can have a life with Lethe? When did you start thinking so little of me, sister?”

         Heat rose to Vassa’s cheeks, shame roiling in her gut. Deidra had one hand on the door before Vassa could snarl back her answer.

         “Go to the meeting if you feel you must but do not expect me to nod my head and smile prettily like one of Cerroden’s pets.” And she was gone.

         In a moment of peak unqueenliness, Vassa picked up a paperweight from her desk and hurled it at the closed door. The glass trinket shattered on impact and the queen swore colorfully. She crossed the room and knelt to pick up the pieces, muttering exactly what she thought of her little sister at that particular moment. 

         Not that she had liked that paperweight. It had been one of many coronation gifts and Vassa avoided any reminder of that time, even if Deidra had just invoked the memory of their parents’ deaths.

         Her shoulders deflated. She shouldn’t have mentioned Lethe. It was selfish of her to use their situation against Deidra just to win an argument. Albeit, a very important one. 

         A knock of the door broke Vassa from her thoughts. She hastily rose and dropped the glass in her hand into the waste bin. Trying to steel her back into what she hoped was a regal pose, she called for the knocker to come in.

         “Your Majest-” Bogdan barely had three syllables in before the sound of crunching glass sounded beneath his feet. Vassa tried not to wince as her steward inspected the shards of glass now embedded in his shoe. Apparently, she had missed some pieces. “I see that ‘walking on glass’ is more than an idiom to you, dear Vassa. Was talking to that unctuous pet of Cerroden’s not punishment enough?”

         So he did belong to Cerroden. Deidra owed her sister a large amount of gold. She would have to call in that debt when they were on better terms.

         “I was arguing with my sister and I… I may have lost my temper.” It seemed there would be no end to the amount of shame that burned Vassa’s cheeks today. 

         “Did she make it out unscathed?”

         “I threw it after she left.”

         “Then I’d mark that down as progress.” Warmth touched the old man’s dark eyes and Vassa begrudged him a smile, calling for the guards to get a broom. The two settled into armchairs across from each other. The steward muffled a groan as he sank into the cushion. The queen raised an eyebrow.

         “What is it today, dear Bogdan? Your back?”

         “My knees. They seem to be giving out on me completely.”

         “Have you gone to physician?”

         “I’m afraid there is no tonic for age, my dear.”

         They both were quiet for a moment, lost in the unspoken words. It was a reminder that white hairs upon her steward’s head were entirely earned by the extensive years he had lived. The years of service given with quiet honor to the royal family. Indeed one day, Bogdan would die and Vassa would lose the closest friend and mentor she had. Even now she knew she would miss his soft way of moved about the world, his keen mind, his knowledge of the political arena that Vassa had been forced into at such a young age.The man was now over seventy years old, ancient compared to Vassa’s young twenty and six. She turned her mind towards another subject.

         “What did the courier have to say?” 

         The light in his eyes flickered as the steward hesitated, “All the queens, save Your Majesty, are already at Logoria.” A tight breath. “Your presence is requested immediately.”

         Ah. So that was why the courier was in such a hurry. 

         “And this ‘person of interest’ is still unknown?”

         “If there even is one.”

         Vassa blew hard air out of her nose before leaning further into the stuffed chair.

         “Then Deidra is right, those witches are cooking up something in that cauldron of theirs. Our spies have heard nothing so urgent for us all to meeting so quickly. Even with Amarantha’s death, there is nothing affecting our lands so far away from Prythian. Unless they’re looking for a way to steal some power while the courts rebuild; even Maven cannot be so ambitious to pick a fight with the High Lords.”

         “I find myself wondering the same thing.” He rubbed his jaw. “There is little she stands to gain from Amarantha’s demise but knowing Maven, she’ll find a way to benefit herself. Whatever they’re planning, it’s best not to be involved-we have our own problems as it is.”

         “I don’t suppose you oppose my going.” The queen lifted a bright, auburn brow.

         Her steward paused in furrowed thought before bringing his eyes to Vassa, “I see both advantage and disadvantage to it. If you refuse or drag your feet for too long, then the Mendeleevs’ will find out, no doubt through Ciril, simultaneously dragging your name through the mud while forming critical relationships with the other queens. It will cement their position as a family of influence, even beyond the borders of Scythia. They will call you out for being naive and coltish, not diplomatic enough to even pay a courtesy call to your fellow queens. You will lose the aristocrats who already call for increased trade among the human kingdoms. You will be called an isolationist. 

         “On the other hand, I do not trust the other queens. Evidently, they’ve already spoken together and yet I’ve heard nothing. Not just of their meeting but it would seem that all of my contacts within the palace have gone silent on all matters. It has been a long time since trustworthy women have sat on those thrones. They will seek to manipulate you as they have done with Hira, though the girl clearly has agenda of her own. But Vassa,” a shadow broke over his brow, “I don’t like the looks of this.”

         “That wasn’t the answer I was looking for, dear steward.” The poor attempt at humor failed to mask the worry in her blue eyes. 

         For once, Bogdan did not laugh at her attempt, “I will not always be there to give you the answer, my young queen.” Vassa’s heart sunk like an anchor at his tone. “Besides, I believe that your mind is made up and there is little in the world to change it-even the blathering of an old steward.” 

         The weight of decision hung heavy in the young woman’s chest until one thought sparked a bit of hope. 

         “Will you come with me?”

         “Of course.” It was said without hesitation. Without condescension.

         Gratitude welled within the queen’s heart. She would not have made it this far without dear Bogdan. 

         “Is the messenger still here?”

         “Yes. I had Millan set him up in one of the guest houses.” He looked at Vassa expectantly, a slight smile tugging at his lips.

         “Good. The others will not only expect me to take my sweet time arriving but to send the courier right back and be done with him. Might as well ruin any plans they’ve made and make my appearance as soon as possible.”

         “Which is when?”

         “Today.”

         “And the courier?”

         “He’s not to know until we are in the very halls of the palace, face to face with the queens. I’d like to walk into this meeting with any bit of leverage I can manage.” Vassa bit her lip, deep in thought. The power to winnow, granted by whatever fae magic bound the mortal queens to the book, would take all of her strength. If she took her entire entourage of guards. However, if she only took herself, Bogdan, and small contingency of elite soldiers then she would have the energy to winnow in and out on the same day. Four or five of the Hardrada would not be missed from their post in the city.

         Even then, winnowing in and out of Logoria was impossible. The ancient wards on the palace would keep out even the strongest of fae, let alone a human queen. They’d have to arrive outside of the gates before using Vassa’s own signature magic to enter, allowing the queens about five minutes to prepare for her arrival. The more flustered the queens, the quicker the meeting will be and the sooner Vassa could return to Scythia.  Smoothing her silken dress, she stood up and offered a hand to her friend, pulling him out the chair. 

         “Inform the Hardrada their services are required immediately. Take four or five of the best, swear them to confidentiality. We’ll be winnowing to Logoria in the next few hours.” Vassa gripped Bodgan’s hand tightly before turning toward the door. “I’d like to be back before dinner tonight; I hear the cook is making duck.”


End file.
